


talk some sense to me

by sporadichearttcollector



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Let them cuddle, Mild Blood, Neil gets a concussion, Panic Attack, Soft Andrew Minyard, Sort Of, neil hits his head on a rock and there is the briefest mention of blood, this is basically venting but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:03:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadichearttcollector/pseuds/sporadichearttcollector
Summary: It’s not something that has ever bothered him before. Maybe because he hasn’t noticed, or just didn’t care. He feels… grief? Loss? He is maudlin for something he has never had before.Neil doesn’t think anyone’s ever been proud of him before. Certainly, no one has ever said it to him.





	talk some sense to me

**Author's Note:**

> self indulgent bs, wasn't exactly what i was going for but lord knows i never write exactly what i intend.

          Neil is alone when he realizes it. Matt has just left, having thumped him on the back, given a big smile, and said, “ _ I’m proud of you, buddy!” _

          It’s not something that has ever bothered him before. Maybe because he hasn’t noticed, or just didn’t care. He feels… grief? Loss? He is maudlin for something he has never had before. 

          When Nathaniel Wesninski was five years old, he came home beaming, clutching the already-wrinkled piece of paper in his small hands, excited to present his spelling award to the parents he didn’t yet know he could not impress. 

          His father had ripped the paper into piece and given him what would become his first scar for daring to act like getting some stupid award was an achievement. 

          His mother had pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead an hour later as she cleaned his cut, and warned him to never bring something like that to his father again. 

          Neil blinks dazedly at the letter he holds between his scarred fingers. The urge to toss it in the trash is almost impossible to ignore. He’s received an award. Something math related, his eyes barely skimmed the first paragraph before Neil’s arm moved of its own accord to toss it away. Matt, who had come over to lend Neil an old textbook, snatched the paper from his hand, reading it with excitement. 

          “Oh, wow!” He had exclaimed. “Neil, that’s amazing! Good job. I’m proud of you, buddy!” Neil doesn’t recall if he replied, or just sat down to dumbly stare at the piece of paper. 

          Andrew is at therapy for at least another twenty minutes 一 something Neil is starting to think he might really need to take up 一 so Neil refrains from calling him about the confusing feeling settling in his chest. 

          Neil doesn’t think anyone’s ever been proud of him before. Certainly, no one has ever said it to him. 

          He remembers his mother’s warm hand on his shoulder after the first time he killed a man, her cool voice telling him it was a good shot. How there had been a cup of fresh fruit in their tiny motel fridge that night. 

          Mayhaps, Neil thinks, his mother had been proud of him them. Maybe she had been proud after the tenth, or twelfth. 

          There hadn’t been any fruit cups after the first. 

          Neil forces those thoughts away, knowing it’s a rabbit hole he doesn’t have the time for today. Someone knocks at his door, and Dan’s head peaks in.

          “Hey!” She grins at him. “Matt just told us about your award! Congrats, man. It’s a big deal, right?”

          “I don’t know,” Neil admits, glancing at the paper for a moment before standing and walking to the door. He hands her the paper, then crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know how they got my name for it.” Dan takes the letter from him, holding it like it’s something precious as she reads about Neil’s so called achievement. 

          “It says here your teacher recommended you for it.” She looks up at him, smile beginning to fade as she notices his closed off posture and the closed off look on his face. 

          “Don’t they have to ask to do that?” Neil mutters, staring at a crack in the wallpaper to Dan’s left. 

          “No, I don’t think so…” Dan says, and Neil realizes she’s giving him one of those sad looks all the upperclassmen get when they remember the horrible things he’s been through. “Here, maybe you should read it.”

          “I think I’ll just throw it out,” Neil says airily. “It doesn’t matter.”

          Nothing matters when he can feel his mother’s heavy hands on his back and hear her vicious voice hissing into his ear.

          “It is a big deal, Neil. This is a huge award, it sounds really prestigious.” 

          “It doesn’t matter,” Neil repeats. “I’m going to tell my professor to get my name taken off of it.” 

          “Neil,” Dan tries again, but stops. Neil guesses she sees something on his face, because she doesn’t push it anymore, just hands the letter back to him. “You should show it to Andrew,” Dan murmurs. “Before you throw it out.”

          “Why?” Neil shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not… It doesn’t matter.”  _ I don’t matter. _ Neil takes a few uneven breaths before crumpling the stupid piece of fucking paper and tossing it across the room. “I’m going for a run,” he decides, turning and haphazardly shoving his feet into the beat up sneakers he kicked off a few hours ago. 

          He hears Dan say something else as he hurries past her, but he doesn’t comprehend it, legs speeding up to a sprint. Kevin would kill him if he knew Neil was running without warming up or stretching, but all Neil cares about now is quieting the roar in his mind. 

          Neil sprints all the way to the Court, then across campus, and halfway to the highway before his foot catches on a rock and he slams into the concrete, head banging right into a rock. 

          “Ow,” Neil groans painfully, dragging a hand up to assess the damage on his forehead. His fingers come back bloody, and he lets out another groan. 

          Andrew is going to be furious, Neil realizes when a quick search of his person reveals he has, once again, left his phone at home. 

          Neil lays there for a few minutes, trying to think of an adequate excuse, when the screech of tires on the pavement sounds just a bit to his right. Footsteps, then a voice he recognizes to be Andrew’s. 

          “Neil,” he says, and his calloused hands turn Neil onto his back. Neil is probably the only person who recognizes the look in Andrew’s eyes to be concern, and other faces come into view as well. Aaron, Kevin, and Nicky are all leaned over him, and their words jumble together. 

          “I’m sorry,” Neil says to Andrew. “I forgot to grab my phone before I left.” 

          “Idiot,” Andrew murmurs, brushing a hand over the wound on Neil’s forehead. “I’m taking you to Abby, this needs stitches. Can you stand?”

          “Of course I can,” Neil frowns. “I’m fine, I can take care of it.” Sounds of outrage and astonishment erupt from Nicky and Kevin, and Neil flinches away from the loud sounds. He forces his hands to push his body from the concrete, and his vision blacks out. 

          Everything comes back into focus a moment later, and he is laying on the ground again. 

          “Yes or no?” Andrew asks him before Neil can say anything. 

          “Yes,” Neil replies, blinking confusedly at him. Andrew’s hands slide beneath Neil’s body and lift him from the ground. Neil’s head presses comfortably against Andrew’s shoulder, and he curls his fingers in Andrew’s shirt. 

          “This is nice,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

          “Two hundred and seventy six percent,” Andrew hisses. 

          “Don’t let him fall asleep,” someone who sounds suspiciously like Andrew, but not really says. It sounds as though Neil is underwaters, but he is breathing so that’s impossible.

          “I have a concussion,” Neil realizes. 

          “You face planted into the concrete and hit a rock, yeah you have a fucking concussion.” Neil think’s it’s Kevin speaking now, but he suddenly feels so tired and ignores the voice in favor of pressing his face into Andrew’s neck. They’re in the car now, Neil can’t remember what it’s called, and someone that isn’t Andrew is driving. Andrew’s hands are nice and press firmly to Neil’s back and one of his thighs. 

          “Don’t fall asleep,” comes Andrew’s rough voice. Neil slowly peels his eyelids back, staring at a tiny mole on the side of Andrew’s neck. 

          “I’m tired,” Neil tells him. 

          “Don’t fall asleep,” Andrew repeats. 

          “I got an award,” Neil’s tongue says, regardless of what his mind thinks. “Matt said he was proud of me. No one’s ever done that before.”

          “Shut up,” Andrew says, and Neil really, really wishes he would. 

          “Even when I did everything right, Mom never said it.” Neil mumbles. “I saved her life, once, and she left bruises that lasted for weeks. I killed someone to save her, and she beat me.”

          “Neil,” Andrew’s voice sounds like a warning, but the lock Neil usually keeps on his jaw is loose, and the words just keep flowing out. 

          “No one’s ever been proud of me before,” Neil’s eyes slide shut again. “Why would Matt be?”

          “I’m not explaining this to you now,” Andrew says, and his voice has taken on a worried edge. “Open your eyes, Neil. Stay awake, I told you not to fall asleep.”

          “I’m tired, Andy,” Neil slurs, trying to force his eyes open but failing. “I wanna sleep.”

          “You can’t,” Andrew says, and his hand presses to Neil’s face. “You’re concussed, you’re not supposed to sleep right now.”

          “I’m tired,” Neil tries again. “I’m tired.”

          “I know,” Andrew’s thumb is brushing over his cheekbone, soft and fond, and it’s  _ so nice, wow,  _ Neil might need to get concussed more often if it means Andrew will touch him like this. “Don’t you dare,” Andrew snaps, and Neil makes a confused noise. Did he say that aloud? “Yes, now shut up.”

          “We’re here,” a voice says, and Neil peels his eyes open long enough to be blinded by the fucking sun, feel his whole stomach clench with nausea, and think about how Andrew would  _ never _ forgive him for puking on him, before shutting his eyes and pressing his face into Andrew’s shoulder. He feels Andrew moving, pulling him from the car and carrying him somewhere. 

          “He hit his head pretty hard,” Not-Andrew says, and Neil groans quietly at the sudden pounding in his head. “Concussion, and a cut that needs stitches.”

          Neil hears a soft voice, feels soothing hands and a burning in his forehead, but Andrew’s fingers are intertwined with his own so it’s okay. 

          “Neil?” He blinks a few times and realizes it’s Abby standing in front of him. “Sweetheart, I’ve stitched up the cut on your head, I’m going to get you an ice pack and then I want you to lay down for a few hours.”

          “Okay,” Neil whispers, because everything is so loud right now. “Andy?” Andrew comes into his vision, pale eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

          “I’m here,” he murmurs, squeezing Neil’s hand.

          “Stay?” Neil asks, rubbing his thumb along one of Andrew’s knuckles. 

          “Of course,” Andrew tilts his head a bit, drawing their linked fingers up to brush the lightest of kisses to Neil’s hand. “Let’s get you to the couch, yeah?” Neil hums his agreement, letting Andrew pull him to his feet and leaning into Andrew’s side as he stumbles over to Abby’s couch. Things are a bit fuzzy as to how, but he ends up laying on his back, head propped up on one of the throw pillows. 

          “Andy?” Neil mumbles, tugging at Andrew’s hand. The words in his head get tangled, and he barely manages to push the words from his lips. “Wanna hold you.” Andrew says something, grumbles it more like, and climbs onto the couch beside him.

          “Keep your hands where I tell you,” he instructs, carefully adjusting Neil so the uninjured side of his head is pressing into Andrew’s neck, one arm tossed over Andrew’s waist and the other clutching at his shirt. “Just here.”

          “Okay,” Neil inhales deeply, feeling safer with Andrew’s arms around him. Something cold presses against the injured side of his forehead, and he whines for a moment before being shushed by Andrew. The voices that had, until now, been quiet and distant, seem to fade away with footsteps until the pair are alone in Abby’s living room. 

          “Neil,” Andrew says softly. “Can you listen to me for a bit?”

          “Yeah,” Neil says. He feels warm, soft, like all of his woes have floated away on a cloud. Andrew’s hand on his own is  _ so nice _ . 

          “Matt and Dan told me about your award,” Andrew tells him, and it’s like ice down his back. “That was why you were running, yes?”

          “It’s just a stupid award, it doesn’t matter.”

          “It does matter,” Andrew corrects. “You matter, your achievements matter too. Both are important and to be celebrated. Do you understand?”

          “I’m nothing,” Neil sniffs. “I don’t-”

          “You’re not nothing, Neil.” Andrew brings one hand up to cradle his face. “You are everything. It’s really shitty that no one’s ever been proud of you before, and unfortunately there’s no way to fix your tragic childhood. I would if I could. I know it’s hard, but you deserve to celebrate your successes.”

          “You sound like Bee.”

          “Bee is usually right. Matt, and all of the upperclassmen are proud of you because you earned a fancy award. I’m proud of you too. For more than just the award.” He pauses, and Neil thinks it’s so Andrew can study his face. Neil peels his eyes open, and his lips quirk up when he finds he is correct, and Andrew’s eyes meet his. “I’m proud of you everyday, Neil. You’re healing, and doing things just because they make you happy. You hardly check for exits now. I could list so many more things that I’m proud of you for.”

          “Andrew,” Neil breathes shakily, and the fingers holding onto Andrew’s shirt tighten.

          “I’ll tell you everyday that I’m proud of you if that’s what you need.”

          “No, that’s…” Neil frowns for a moment, trying to put together the correct words. “It’s enough to hear it now. Thank you.”

          “Shut up,” Andrew rolls his eyes. “Abby said it was okay if you napped a little, so go ahead.”

          “Thanks, Andy,” Neil murmurs, letting his eyes fall shut as he snuggles closer to Andrew and falls into a dreamless sleep.

          ~

          Every single one of the Foxes, Wymack, Abby, and Bee are at that award ceremony, cheering loudly as Neil accepts the damn thing, and Andrew spends that evening murmuring his praise between kisses pressed into Neil’s skin. 

          Neil thinks he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://sporadichearttcollector.tumblr.com/)   
> 


End file.
